I don’t think the locals like me. At the very least they think I’m odd. Or maybe alien. Picture this, a deserted Omani beach near the Yemeni border, Hollywood backdrop of massive sand dunes that stop short at the beach by the Indian Ocean at its rather feminine nature of sudden mood changes. That’s all cute and lovely, especially when you factor in the turtles shells from the last hatching that litters the sand, and the extraordinary aqualife that congregates around the reefs along the shoreline like a sales bonanza in a Dubai mall. I suspect that what really made the locals do a double-take was the white guy perched on a reclining camping chair with a laptop on his knees powered by a solar-charged battery listening to AC/DC. Maybe they are more Rachmaninov types. Regardless, the locals are lovely people and generally extremely hospitable. Normally they come along and ask if there is anything they can do to make your stay more hospitable, but my Jeep is so well kitted out with gear that I must resemble a cross between Mad Max and the Gumball Rally.

Let me make a judgment and say that I doubt you have ever had the pleasure of working like I do, although when I contemplate the subject of work I’m forced to giggle as I sit here on a deserted wild beach having just dived with some of the most diverse aquatic life on the planet and slurped on a coconut for some light refreshment between barbecued meals and the odd Oreo. I can guarantee there will never be anyone at a party to counter this experience with, “Well, there I was sitting in the office….” Shut up right there. You said, “Office’. You lose. Why? Because other than some insanely dirty sex act on a colleagues/boss’ desk or giving either one of them a violent kicking after an age of repressed hesitance, nothing will give you this same satisfaction. Sure, some of less enlightened or fatter types will wax lyrical about the feeling that power/money/title may give you, but you’ll never achieve this kind of nirvana until you wake up after your first heart attack or your second divorce, or get fired despite having been at the receiving end of one of those dirty sex acts.

Don’t get me wrong, money is phenomenal when you have it, but it doesn’t give you this experience. Experiences like this are honed, and practiced, or sheer wild chance. The reason this experience is extraordinary is because no one can be bothered to make the effort to achieve it any more. You have to ‘work’ for it. And when I say work, I mean go against what everyone else considers normal. It means kitting out an off-road car, packing for a variety of eventualities, driving 12 hours across inspirational areas named ‘The Empty Quarter’ and then setting up camp miles from any form of help whilst trying gauge whether you’ve plonked your only ride out of here safely out of the way of a possible torrent that may wash down a wadi without any prior warning. Having said that, I would undergo this trial for several lifetimes rather than spend my adult life commuting on a train or subway.

 

It has been 4 days, camped next to the sand dunes that flow majestically onto the beach being kept at bay by the exotic expanse of the Indian Ocean. This is where the turtles come to lay their eggs, and all the reef fish come to feed at high tide along with the serious predators such as Tiger sharks, dolphins and, depending on the time of year, the odd Orca. At night, when the sun plops into the ocean with a mute fizz, the sky is transformed into an often forgotten scene of pure universal expanse populated by its random creations, and piles of space junk that circle the Earth. It is mildly upsetting that a person needs to drive for a full half day just to witness the Earth devoid of light pollution these days, but when one does it truly releases a experience that cannot be replicated in any form. Couple that with the stress-busting flickers of an open wood fire on the sand and a full belly of beach-cooked bolognese, it makes for a reset of ones priorities.

But I digress, the true benefit of this is the ability to reset ones’ circadian rhythm, being active by free-diving for lobsters and beach-combing for firewood, and having the freedom to complete a train of thought without the interference of some email, text or phone call. It sounds so simple, but our lives have become fragmented to the degree that even goldfish have been found to have greater attention spans than us humans (3 seconds vs our 2.9 seconds). In essence, one ‘earns’ the right for nature’s wonders, and the pay-off is truly handsome. Immediately your metabolism kicks into a new gear, stripping you of those almost mandatory ‘love-handles’, not to mention the visceral fat that encases your internal organs. You start to sleep better, deeper and earlier. Your day becomes more enticing, without a groan of despair at the scheduled meetings or the incessant stupidity of regurgitating paperwork.

Ultimately, these kinds of experiences are as life-enhancing/prolonging as good nutrition as they feed the soul as much as leaching the rubbish out of your system. I dare anyone to not come back from a minimum week’s trip and feel transformed, both physically and spiritually.